The waters of Buzzard's Bay are one of the most pristine and beautiful natural
resources we have. I have spent most of my life sailing the bay. I have seen the
bay so calm that the sky seems to merge with the mirror smooth water. I have seen
the bay with the wind so fierce, and the waves so high that all I could do was
hang on as the boat surged along on a broad reach under reefed sail, the top of
each wave coating us with spray.

I've seen the arrival of the terns in springtime,
and the amazing sight of sailing off Ram Island in Mattapoisett at sunset, as
these tiny birds return by the hundreds each evening, to feed their young, with sand eels hanging from
their beaks. As my boat ghosts along in the fading wind of sunset, I see
them, wave after
wave of birds flying back from all corners of the bay, focused on one purpose,
to feed their young.

I've seen seals arrive to winter over off of
Cuttyhunk and seen the seals return north in the springtime by swimming back
though the Cape Cod canal. The seals have even explored the shallow waters of
Little Bay, watching me row my skiff in an early spring excursion into the
harbor.

Summer
brings Oystercatchers and Snipes to Little Bay, and Bluefish in
abundance.

Summer brings dependable 15 knot breezes out of the
southwest each afternoon,
laying out a roadmap for a sailing vessel, broad reach to Woods Hole, windward
to Kettle Cove.

The fall brings the changing of the seasons. The
bluefish head south, along
with the terns and other shore birds. Blue herons and snowy egrets stop for a
while on their migration south to warmer shores. In their place arrive the arctic ducks,
the buffleheads. These tiny ducks of black and white markings fly in clusters.
They are first seen offshore, out by NoMan's Island, then as the month of
October
progresses, they are seen further and further in shore, until by December, when
they roost with the mallards in Little Bay and other protected estuaries.

"Sailboat
racing is an indescribably joyous thrill.
It combines the exuberance of simply being on the water,
the boat leaning sidelong into the waves as its sails take the wind and convert
it to velocity.
I learned all the winds; I learned the tides and the currents; I learned the
movement of the boat through the sea; I learned to judge my location on the
water by the distant cliffs and lighthouses and rooftops on shore. Those were
the sparkling summers when the sea transformed itself into a home for me, a
charmed universe that I could enter in any season, any weather, and find
comfort, transcendence."Edward M. Kennedy,
True Compass

Winter brings
frozen waters. The ducks remain as do the seals, but it is the most barren time
for the bay.

Buzzard's Bay
provides me with a source of spiritual renewal. Since my early days of sailing
along her shores, the sense of a force of nature, so very much more powerful
than me, provides me with a sense of respect, humility and timelessness. Seasons
come and go, I age, and yet the winds of summer return each season. The
brilliant sunlight reflecting on the water as Yuletide glides on a broad reach
from the Elizabeths, season after season. Decade after decade.